IN: Irene here. I know my dad Philip usually does these, but he's in the hospital right now after my ferret attacked him. I can't IMAGINE why she'd do something like that.
(Psst, that was sarcasm.)
Anyway, you'll notice Sparklespam 1 and Sparklespam 2 are in this chapter. Don't tell Juna and Sab that I told you this, but if I were you, I wouldn't even try to figure out what they're up to just yet, because it's only going to get more confusing before it's cleared up. They're Nayru demis like that...
- Something milder than outright disgust and contempt,
Irene
Too often we are cursed for not interfering enough
not helping enough
not caring enough
And maybe it's true
maybe we don't
But maybe there's a reason for that
Maybe you'd ask us not to
if we did.
Chapter 4 - 500 Years Ago: Eric
Eric placed a hand on the corner and took just a small step forward so that his sharp gray eye just barely pierced into the hall beyond. The two heavy, wooden doors slammed shut. The little red-headed pirate girl turned around and stood at attention, shoulders back, fist tight around her glaive.
He stepped out from behind the corner.
"Hey."
She froze and widened her eyes at him. A grin curled over his face, showing too many teeth.
"What are you guarding, little girl?" he sneered as he crept down the hall toward her.
"This is- this is Lord Logan's meeting room. Nobody- nobody is allowed entry right now. He's seeing a private guest."
"Is that so?" he purred, reaching her and leaning over her.
"On Lord Logan's orders!" she barked too quickly and loudly.
"Oh, no need to tell me twice!" he replied congenially. "Who is it?" the boy asked sweetly, grinning in her face.
"His-his name is Lord Raer."
"Oh? Where does he hail from?"
"I don't know -"
"Why is he here?"
She bit her lower lip nervously.
"I-Idunno, I -"
Suddenly, he lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of the orange-red hair on top of her head. He yanked her close and roared into her face.
"TELL ME WHY HE'S HERE!"
"I DON'T KNOW!" she shrieked. "POLITICS! POLITICS!"
He snarled at her for a moment longer, boring into her wide, terrified amber eyes, searching for a lie. But she only stared back dumbly, transfixed with fear, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Then, he relaxed, and his fingers came open, releasing her.
"Huh."
She was telling the truth. No getting around it.
He turned and ran back down the corridor, leaving her in shock.
Eric zipped through the compound on light feet. The halls suddenly seemed so unfairly long, the fortress hopelessly big. He burst into the sunlight, then down a long flight of stairs and shot across the grounds.
Here. About time. He yanked open the door to potential merchandise storage- perhaps the most underused room in the entire compound.
He slunk inside, through the crates and containers, and climbed on top of a crate, then a barrel. He wobbled and held his arms out for balance. Then he reached up and lifted the grating from the vent in the wall, and hoisted himself into the air ducts, grunting and kicking.
The shafts were cold, windy, and claustrophobic. Even on his stomach there were ducts that he couldn't squeeze into. The fans roared in his ears, and the dust and coldness brought tears to his eyes. His dark hair whipped across his cheeks and nose, stinging him, blinding him. His fingers were numb with cold and his knees felt raw beneath his breeches. But he pressed on.
When he came to the throne room, the lithe, blonde man he had spied going in was speaking, his voice loud and clear. Eric dropped onto his stomach and crawled to the grating of the high wall vent, peering through the bars and listening.
"...am an economic man such as yourself, Lord Logan, and, I too, have only come into power as of the last year - and not always by the fairest of play.
"Now, it's not common knowledge about how you got to where you are... But seeing as I've done the same thing - it takes one to know one, does it not? And I think you and I are of very like minds...and that, if we were to combine - you with your Termina and myself with my Labrynna -... We could do much more than we could apart... We could take on much bigger enemies...Take on -...and assimilate -...enemies such as...the fair and prosperous land of Hyrule?"
Eric narrowed his blue eyes, a tiny smile curling over his face. Oh, how fun! Another overlord! This was going to be entertaining no matter which way it went. And who knew? Maybe if he kept waiting - waiting and watching - then maybe - no, certainly! - he could find a way to work this all to his advantage. What fun, what fun!
He bit his lip, still smiling as he watched intently.
The darkness beside him suddenly began to glow softly and silently, little orbs of pink and purple and blue coming together gently. Subtle, as far as sparklemagic went. But Eric did not see, and still he did not see as the magic became a pixie-like, red-haired woman, leaning on her sharp elbows and propping up her chin and smirking
He ignored the freezing sensation that gripped one side of his body where she touched him, assuming it to be more ventilation. But suddenly, a voice was in his ear, light and kind, like the tinkling of bells on the wind.
"Whatcha doin' Mr. Mouse King? Spyin'? Anything good?"
Eric started violently. He grabbed his mouth to keep himself from shrieking and locked his muscles to refrain from making too much of a ruckus with his flinching.
She ignored him and leaned forward to peek through the bars, then smirked as she saw Raer beyond. Wouldn't he be miffed if he knew that she had shown herself to Eric! She shifted with the faintest echo of tiny bells and looked at the boy, the tiniest bit smug.
"You know it's not polite to eavesdrop, right?"
He turned on the her with a snarl, hand already at his knife. Though she was pale, he immediately jumped to the conclusion that she must have been a nosy Gerudo- a half-breed maybe? A mutant? Whatever. He had no idea how Gerudo genetics worked and he didn't care. He also had no idea how she had gotten there, and he didn't care about that either. What he did know was that it would be in her best interest to haul skinny Gerudo ass out of there. Fast.
"You'd better get out of here before I throw you to the Desbrekos, you little whore," he growled.
He would probably end up throwing her to the Desbrekos later anyway. But that was beside the point.
However, she only giggled at him, a schoolgirl's giggle, then smiled with a menacing air.
"I would like to see you try," she said and nudged him with her hip. "The Desbrekos wouldn't know what to do with me. Besides, I don't think you should be here either, should you. And don't go for the knife -"
Her pleasant and soft voice fell to cold steel.
"I could rip you apart with a thought, and I don't even think Miss Nayru would mind."
But Eric didn't hear much of what she said. He was deaf and trembling with rage. How dare she talk to him like that! And then she was threatening him! Oh, she would learn to know better.
He whipped the knife out of its sheath and pulled it back with what little space the vents allowed. He reached out with his other hand to take a handful of her red roots.
The knife came down with all of his force and plunged into her skull.
But there was no blood. No scream. No resistance of her innards against the blade. She didn't even flinch. The blade was lodged to the hilt, angular above one eye on her brow, like a spade in clay.
Eric's eyes widened. His heart pounded. His hand trembled.
For once in his life, stabbing things hadn't solved his problems.
"Owch," she said pathetically with a quivering pout. "No wonder the mice don't like you."
His voice shook as he spoke.
"What -... Who -..."
And then she lunged, hand darting to his face. But there was no violence in her intention. Her fingers touched his cheek.
A sudden shock of lightning tore into his mind.
Sanity.
Pure and simple sanity coursed through him, coupled with the power of forced and biased reflection of his life and actions. Laina. Atris. Keith - all the innocent people he had hurt, maimed, and killed, without even knowing their names. And a strange, foreign feeling: regret.
Regret.
Regret so deep that it clawed his insides, that tears burst from his eyes. The knife clattered to the flooring of the ducts, and he rolled onto his back, sobbing and crying out into his hand. The flash was gone then, as sudden as it had come. But still it tingled, too recent. He flipped onto his stomach and shoved his teeth against the inside of his elbow to muffle a mournful wail. He hiccupped and punctuated each gasp with a confused and fearful whimper.
"I'll do it again," she promised.
He lay where he was and gasped and whimpered.
"You should leave here, and know that the current guests and every woman in this fortress are under my protection. I will be watching."
He hiccupped again and curled up as though he hadn't heard her..
"Now go."
And then the sobbing was quickly quiet and the pain dying. He waited a moment, letting the hurt fade. He propped himself up on his elbows. But he had no intentions to leave.
Maybe he would have, if she had also left. Maybe he would have crawled back, curled up in his covers, continued crying there, and not given the guest a second thought. Maybe he would have even left the Gerudos alone out of fear of her. But this strange spirit had made one fatal mistake.
She had challenged him.
He took one last recollecting breath and turned a white hot glare to her, his gray eyes burning through his dark bangs.
"Make me," he rasped.
She stared at him with a mixture of regret and anger.
"So it seems I must."
She raised one hand. A flash, a crack, and suddenly Eric was alone, belly down on dusty floorboards.
He was limp with shock for a moment. He realized slowly that he was no longer in the air ducts- nor even the fortress. Instead, he was somewhere old and forgotten, choked by dust and only faintly lit by low-burning candles. Insects scampered freely on the floorboards, clicking, unafraid.
He sat up and looked around, taking in the two doors on opposite walls and the staircase that led down to another floor.
Rage suddenly exploded in his chest.
That bitch. That whore. She thought she could stop him? He'd make her see. He'd find her and tear her apart. No matter what. Even if stabbing her did nothing, he would find a way. He always found a way. He always found a way!
A dry, rattling sound came from the corner. He whirled around, and his eyes met the glow of a Stalchild's.
Eric let out a strangled scream and charged, even without his knife. His fingers plunged into its ribcage and tore apart the brittle bones. His other hand grabbed the skull and ripped it off of the neck. Its teeth clattered with distress, the hands left on the body flailing to find its head again. He smashed the pelvis with a kick. Then he threw the skull on the ground and crushed it under his boot with a resounding, splintering, CRRUNCH!
The remains of the splintered skeleton fell still. He panted where he stood, looking down
Silence.
Then he turned his face to the sky and let out a blood-curdling screech.
"III'LL KIIILL YOOOOUUUUUU!"